


Holiday in Geneva

by HPGal3



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPGal3/pseuds/HPGal3
Summary: Ivan tries to escape the lonely holidays in another country, but little does he know someone else is trying to do the same.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Holiday in Geneva

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kyleen, or pandorica0011 on tumblr, in the RusAme Secret Santa!

As Ivan stepped out of the front doors of the lobby of his hotel, a rush of stinging wind whipped across his face, making his scarf whip violently around his neck. To anyone else, this might be a sign that the outside world was not accommodating enough for a stroll uptown but Ivan had just that little to lose. He swore to himself and carried on, tucking his scarf back into his winter coat.

Being a renowned icy nation (perhaps the  _ go-to-example  _ of “icy nation”), the weather in Geneva this time of year didn’t bother him terribly. Ivan was used to frigid winds slapping him in the face and slushy snow seeping through even the newest pair of boots. He was even used to it getting dark absurdly early and staying dark ridiculously long. As he arrived at his tram stop he eyed the position of the sun in the sky, already on its path to setting at just past midday, and thought about the darkness of winter. He didn’t have to worry about the consuming all-day-dark that Finland and Norway had to deal with. If it ever got that bad in Russia he would just take up in some of his more southern homes and not have to worry about going stir-crazy in endless dark. No, it wasn’t the cold or the dark that turned his moods during the winter.

It was being alone.

Ivan boarded the tram and swiped his pass before finding a seat in the mid-full transport. He looked out the window, watching the scenery pass as the tram rumbled along. Everywhere he looked Ivan could see an abundance of holiday decorations. Store fronts had ribbons and ornaments, glittering displays of Christmas-themed foods, presents and  _ people.  _ Singles and couples and groups and families walking with children nearly too bundled to move all hurried to get to where they were going, which was probably inside and hopefully before nightfall. Yes, being outside in the cold and nearing dark with people was better than being inside with just himself and his phone for company. And, Ivan privately admitted to himself, being alone amongst strangers was better than being alone amongst the people he was obligated to represent back home.

So he had stood in Geneva. The last World Meeting of Human-Nations had concluded almost a week ago and Ivan hadn’t bothered to check back in with anyone in Moscow. It was just as well. He had no news and had no plans, and no one had bothered checking in on him, either. He wanted to chalk it up to an early vacation, but it was just as likely his boss liked having him away and out of his non-existent hair. As the tram lurched to his stop, Ivan tried to shrug away the bitter feeling in his throat that arose from his last meeting with his boss. When you’re a couple hundred centuries old, being told by someone only born in the last half-century that you’re being obstructive and unhelpful can feel like being scolded by a toddler. But Ivan had to remind himself that the man was an adult and rational and  _ in power,  _ so it wasn’t a good idea to fight with him.

Ivan got off the tram and immediately headed toward his destination. In every Global City, particularly the ones where Nations met somewhat regularly, there were places where the humans just  _ knew.  _ Sometimes they knew a lot and sometimes they knew only to treat the Nations like extra-special dignitaries. Sometime in the 80s, he had asked Switzerland—Basch—if he recommended anywhere he could ice skate which had  _ knowing citizens.  _ There hadn’t been any at the time, which had been a shame because he was  _ really  _ into ice skating that decade, but Basch had approached him in the 90s with a business card for a new ice rink and told him the owners were  _ informed _ and not to get too pushy with the special accommodations. Ivan didn’t know why he had to act huffy about the whole affair. He had only asked once and he knew for a fact Basch wasn’t afraid of him. The ice rink was owned by a company with strict orders to allow anyone with their special UN card up to two hours after closing or use of the rink during individual booked practices, no questions asked. Since then, Ivan had only seen a few other of the winter-dominant nations at the rink, Norway, Belarus, Japan. As he approached the rink from the street, he could see that it appeared closed, and, being midday at midweek, he had to hope that whichever Olympic-hopeful booked practice for the day didn’t mind sharing the ice.

A sign on the door proclaimed, in French, the ice rink to be closed for private practice, but Ivan ignored it and pushed into the building. At the reception desk there was a young man who was startled from his reverie of staring at the rink. He looked around quickly to see Ivan enter.

“ _ Hello, I’m sorry! _ ” The man said in French. “ _ Ice Palace is closed for private practice. Please come again tomorrow at 10. _ ”

_ ‘Right… French.’  _ Ivan thought to himself as he went for his wallet.

“ _ Actually, I believe I have a standing appointment. _ ” Ivan said calmly in French, procuring his UN Member Identification. He didn’t want to intimidate the already surprised man, but he knew his height worked against him at times.

The man skimmed his card, then nodded once decisively.

_ “Ah. Another one of these. At least you speak French.”  _ He typed some information into the computer sitting in front of him. “ _ Will you be renting skates?” _

_ “Yes, please. If I am correct a size 48.” _

As the man finished typing, Ivan put his card and wallet away, walking to the rink entrance to see what he had meant by “another one”. He saw a slim boy standing at one end of the rink, Japanese or Korean by the look of them, in lively conversation with a man who must be his coach.

‘ _ If they’re the ones who booked the practice, who is the “other one” here…”  _ Ivan didn’t have to wonder long. He heard the scratching of a launch and saw a shock of sandy blonde hair as its owner did a chaotic upright spin and land dangerously close to the wall. As America grabbed onto the wall for support, he looked up with wide eyes and caught gaze with Ivan.

“ _ Here are your skates, sir.”  _ The ice rink attendant piped up from beside him.

“ _ Thank you.”  _ Ivan said curtly, not breaking gaze.

Alfred scowled at him before pushing away from the wall. Ivan smirked.

‘ _ Of course he didn’t speak French. He barely speaks  _ English.’ Ivan mused to himself as he laced up his skates. As he stepped onto the ice, Alfred slid to a halt just in front of him.

“Vash said no one would be here.”

Ivan paused.

‘ _ Ah. English now.’ _

“I… do not think he did. I’m here quite frequently. Are you sure that’s what he said?”

Alfred scowled deeper.

“ _ Okay,  _ not exactly, BUT I thought everyone had left.”

Ivan smiled and cocked his head.

“I have not.”

“Well duh! I can see that. But I thought—you know what. Whatever.” Alfred made to brush past him to the exit, but Ivan held out his arm.

“You do not have to go. I am just here to occupy my mind. If you are doing the same I will not bother you.”

Alfred furrowed his brows and Ivan could swear he saw the wheels in his head churning. Ivan waited a moment. Two. Three. Overall, the consideration took far too long for Ivan’s taste.

“While you think about it, I will be over there  _ not  _ crashing into any walls.”

Ivan moved around Alfred, getting used to the motion of the blade over ice. He started slowly, going in lazy circles around their end of the rink and relishing the effortless glide. Alfred was still watching him, still deciding whether or not to stay.

‘ _ I should give him something to watch.’  _ Ivan smiled to himself and picked up speed. He gave a small leap, launching himself into a double spin, and, even though he landed elegantly, he felt the effort it took to do so.

‘ _ Bad idea. Haven’t stretched.’ _

Ivan returned to where he had left Alfred. The man had seemingly decided to stay and was now doing the ice-rink equivalent of hopping from one foot to the other as Ivan started some quick on-ice stretches.

“You know, I’m just really rusty at this, is all.” Alfred started conversationally.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I don’t really do a lot of ice skating, you know? Or like, skiing. Or snowboarding.”

“Winter sports.”

“Exactly! I mean, I  _ do  _ those things, but not a lot. Between doing them I lose a lot of skill.”

“That is how skills  _ work.” _

“And there’s always non-wintery stuff to do, so I’m always doing  _ that,  _ I mean, you don’t need a season to do some running.”

“Ice rinks exist.”

“And there’s something about  _ ice skating  _ that’s just super hard for me, I guess. It takes a lot of effort.”

“Your one weakness, I know.”

“Other things are easier, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do while I’m here.”

In the time it took the boy to ramble on about his lack of skills in ice skating, Ivan finished his stretches and stood up.

“Why  _ are  _ you here?” Ivan asked. 

“I—“Alfred faltered, and his sudden reticence took Ivan off guard. He intended to ask why Alfred would be at an ice skating rink if he was so disinclined to it, but he didn’t think Alfred took it that way.

“Things aren’t so great at home right now. We’re really politically divided, my boss—bosses?—are fighting and… it kind of hurts. It hurts to be home right now and not be able to do anything about it.”

Ivan stood quiet. Alfred didn’t usually confide in people like this, let alone him. But the week alone in Geneva, isolated from the pain of being around a tumultuous citizenry as well as any other Nation to confide in, had probably had some hand in his sudden openness.

Alfred shook himself out of his thoughts, seeming to realize how much he had just over-shared. He plastered on one of his patented Hollywood smiles and tried to deflect.

“So, uh. Why are  _ you  _ still here?”

Ivan didn’t really  _ want _ to discuss the reason for his extended stay in Geneva. Their reasons were very different. Alfred had people around him who cared about him enough to pull him in ten different directions  _ and  _ family he could call. Ivan had no one. Sisters who hated his guts and a boss who hadn’t checked on him in a week. Ivan looked at Alfred sadly and saw the boy’s grin falter under his gaze.

“Similar issues.” He lied. He didn’t like to kick people while they were down, but he also didn’t like to talk about his problems. Alfred nodded like he understood.

Ivan took off to the ice again, experimenting with more spins and twirls until he saw Alfred venture back onto the ice. Stiffly.

“Have you stretched yet?” Ivan asked, skating circles around Alfred.

“Like you did? No.”

“You should.”

“But I’ve been here for a while, so—“

“Do it anyway. It’ll help.”

Alfred looked like he wanted to argue, but saw Ivan literally skating circles around him and thought better of it.

“Okay, okay. Lessons from the master, got it.” Alfred grumbled and moved to the wall to stretch.

“Not lessons~.” Ivan called over his shoulder. He  _ was  _ pleased with the epithet, admittedly.

Ivan practiced some more on his own, carving figures into the ice in his mind’s eye and spinning for invisible audiences in his head. He lost himself in the technical details of his performance, the angles and speeds, even the sharpness of his skates and the cut of the ice. Would better skates help his corkscrew spin or was that a lost cause? Surely bringing his own skates couldn’t hurt—

Ivan instinctively hesitated half a step and a second later Alfred went rushing past him. The boy spun out of control and landed on the hard ice with a groan.

“ _ Fucking hell!”  _ Ivan shouted in Russian. “You almost ran into me!”

Alfred groaned from the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. I was trying to spin.”

“You cannot do spins at full speed before you have done anything else! Have you even mastered jumps?”

Alfred sat up from the ice and looked at him dumbly.

“Uh…”

Ivan felt like tearing out his hair.

“Get up.”

Alfred slowly dragged himself off the ice and stood on two wobbly blades.

“You will not attempt more skating before you prove to me you can actually skate. Do figure 8s until I say. And  _ don’t,”  _ Ivan thrust his finger into Alfred’s face, “run into me again.”

Alfred looked like he was weighing the merits of fighting back or complying. Ivan could only assume “compliance” won.

“I didn’t run into you a first time.” Alfred snarked before pushing off to perform his figure 8s. Compliance  _ mostly _ won out.

To Ivan’s surprise, Alfred’s curves weren’t half bad. Competent, mostly.

“Okay, show me your steps. Can you do a chasse?”

“You gonna chase me?”

Ivan rolled his eyes and glided over to Alfred.

“Like this. Glide on two feet, stroke, push, glide.” He grabbed Alfred’s arm as he did this, gently pulling him along as he demonstrated. Alfred’s ears lightly pinkened.

“Oh, that, yeah I can do that. No problem.” He rambled. Ivan gave an amused hum.

“Then do it.” He said, shoving Alfred forward. The boy gave a yelp, then stumbled into his chasse step.

Ivan continued to drill Alfred on various skating exercises. As before, he was able to execute them all. Not perfectly, but well enough that Ivan didn’t see any point in harping Alfred into changing them. It wasn’t until Ivan caught the departing wave of the Japanese skater that he realized they had been at it for hours. Inhuman stamina did wonders for their kind, but he had to wonder how much longer they could keep at this without break.

“Well now that they’re not here to see me fall on my ass, can I try some jumps?” Alfred asked excitedly. Ivan sighed, but there was no malice behind it.

“You know it takes extra effort to launch excess body fat into the air.”

“Hey!” Alfred made to poke Ivan in the side but was quickly slapped aside. “You managed just fine.”

“I stepped onto the ice knowing what I was doing.”

“And  _ now  _ I know what I’m doing, right?”

“Barely.” Ivan made a move to skate away from him but Alfred slid in front of him.

“Okay, how about this: the hardest part is landing, right? So then I just won’t land.”

“Oh no. He has forgotten physics.” Ivan said dramatically to the ceiling. “Alfred, things that go up must come down.”

“No, so you’ll catch me! We’ll do Dirty Dancing!”

“You want to do a dirty dance?”

“No! You catch me and lift me over your head! Also spin so I can be an airplane.”

“Oh, you want me to carry lift you.” Ivan paused for dramatic effect. “No.”

“Then I’ll jump on my own!”

“So you break a bone and I do not get crushed to death. That works for me.”

“Why, think you’re gonna drop me? I thought you were better than that.”

Ivan scowled and met Alfred’s mocking tone.

“ _ I  _ am better than that.”

“Then prove it.”

He should have been annoyed. Alfred was standing there haughtily, challenging his expertise in a subject he had been blatantly terrible at not even a few hours prior, all to get something he wanted that could hurt them both. And yet Ivan wasn’t annoyed. He was amused. He knew he was good enough to offset most any mistakes Alfred was about to make and he even knew that Alfred’s weight wasn’t anything he couldn’t bench. He feigned defeated, slightly smiling as he conceded.

“ _ One  _ jump. Start from where the rink starts to curve and jump off at the door. If you do not jump off at the correct time I  _ will  _ let you fly into the wall. And for God’s sake, keep your limbs locked and stiff.”

“Got it!” Alfred flew to the other side of the rink as Ivan got into position.

“Go!”

Alfred gained speed down the rink and Ivan waited anxiously for his launch, and when it came, it came too early. Ivan had to act quick and take an unexpected step forward, grabbing Alfred at a lower angle than natural and hauling him above his head with more strength than momentum. But somehow,  _ somehow  _ the lift worked. He heard Alfred laugh from above him as he did a small spin in place, performing again for the imaginary audience in his mind. Finally he moved to slowly place Alfred down in front of him as they hadn’t discussed finishing beforehand. Alfred steadied himself on Ivan’s shoulders as he was brought down, still laughing in giddy excitement, when Ivan was struck breathless.

As Alfred laughed his open-faced laughter, Ivan was caught in the beam of his Hollywood-white smile, the light pink dusting of his cheeks. He had never been close enough to see how long his lashes were, and as he calmed down in his laughter, Ivan fell headlong into deep blue eyes like he was falling into the sky itself. He realized how close they were, with Alfred’s arms lying carelessly across his shoulders and his own hands gripping Alfred’s waist. Ivan tightened his grip instinctively and Alfred looked up at him, his sky blue eyes full of confusion. It was then that Alfred looked down at their position, and Ivan could only imagine what he was seeing. He felt his face heat up in shame and made to move away.

Alfred tugged him back.

The light dust of pink in his cheeks had turned into a much deeper blush, and he looked away as he spoke.

“Hey. We’re both still here. Alone. Well. Alone together. In Geneva. And I’m willing to bet it’s because you think the holidays suck as much as I do. And we haven’t always been on the best of terms. But maybe the holidays wouldn’t suck as much if we weren’t alone. If we were doing stuff. Together.”

Ivan felt a great swelling in his chest. Truthfully, it was making it really hard to breathe. But Ivan didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to move, or he would risk letting Alfred go and having this moment vanish into smoke. The moment lasted too long, and Alfred squirmed in their embrace.

“Look, if you don’t want to that’s fine. I misread, I’m sorry. It didn’t have to be r—it could have been as friends. But we don’t have to hang out if you don’t want.” Alfred seemed embarrassed and tried to leave the embrace. Ivan panicked, and gripped Alfred’s waist to keep him in place, but Alfred didn’t understand the gesture, so Ivan thought quick.

He leaned down to peck a kiss on Alfred’s cheek.

Alfred gasped and went still.

“I would like that. Doing “stuff”.” Ivan choked out.

Alfred nodded mutely, processing what had just happened, until slowly a smile lit up his features again.

“Good! Great! We can go grab dinner right now!”

Alfred pulled Ivan by the hands towards the ice exit, and almost pulled him out of the building entirely before discarding their ice skates, all the while chatting animatedly to Ivan about future plans. It was overwhelming and different and  _ new,  _ but it was shaping up to be the best Christmas he had ever had.


End file.
